Sticks and Stones
by slithering.stars
Summary: There's a saying that goes like this: 'Sticks and Stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.' Arya Stark deals with words all the time, so maybe Sansa should deal with the sticks and stones.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there. This is a fanfiction I dreamed up a few nights ago after a fight with my own sister. I realized how similar we are to Arya and Sansa. I'm older than her but act more like Arya, while the opposite is true for my sister. So I wrote this, feeling close to Arya at the moment.**

 **Basically, I poured all my emotions into a fictional seven year old from medieval times. Send help.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned the series I wouldn't resort to posting fanfiction online, would I?**

Sticks and Stones

Arya sat in her cold room, her arms crossed and eyes puffy. She didn't understand why Mother had told her to go to her room so harshly. She hadn't done anything wrong! All she did was pull Sansa's hair and… kick Jeyne in the shin… and… bite Beth's hand… Well, she didn't start it! She just defended herself! So why was Mother punishing her?! She should be punishing Sansa and her friends. It's not fair.

Sansa always gets away with everything because she's a 'proper lady' and therefore more believable. Arya thinks that being a highborn or lowborn, proper or not, shouldn't have anything to do with how trustworthy you are. Arya thinks that has to do with your character. Or at least that's what father says. Robb and Jon have believed her over Sansa many a time. But unfortunately, Mother doesn't see things the same way Jon and Robb do.

Father was off on business in White Harbor and had taken Theon Greyjoy and Robb with him. That left Bran in charge of Winterfell, officially. However, Bran was a child of four and did not know how to run The North. So it was Mother that was truly in charge, as she handled everything instead of Bran. Since she had been so busy, Sansa decided to take it upon herself to be Arya's mother whenever their real mother wasn't around. Arya had enough of it when Sansa had told her to grow up because she'll never be able to do things that men do. She said she would never become a proper lady, nor a victorious knight. She said that with her looks, no one would wish to wed her. Sansa and her friends told her she looked like Jon. They put _lots_ of emphasis on Jon being a bastard. _No_ , Arya thought, _Sansa wasn't acting like a mother at all. She was acting like a bully._

That's what Sansa is. She's a bully. She and her friends are bullies when they call her those wretched names and laugh at her foolish attempts to fight like a man grown. They say she'll never be a proper lady and she doesn't know why that hurts her so. She doesn't _want_ to be a proper lady, so why does she cry every time they inform her of that? She likes horses, so why does she cry when they tell her she resembles one? She's proud of being so sneaky, so why does being called Arya Underfoot feel like being stabbed in the stomach? She loves Jon dearly, so why does she feel shame when they accuse her of being like him?

The fire had gone out in her chambers long ago and she didn't bother replacing it. Maybe if she is lucky the cold will kill her. Uncle Benjen says it does at The Wall sometimes. She hasn't seen him in so long. It feels like an eternity. She loves uncle Benjen nearly as much as Jon does. Bran and Rickon are fond of him, but they've met him only once or twice. Sansa thinks he's fun but she doesn't like his stories. Robb admires the man greatly, but it's hard to beat Jon and Arya's love for him. Uncle Benjen is always kind to Jon, even more so than Father. Arya thinks that's because Father doesn't wish to upset Mother by always showing affection for his baseborn son, while Uncle Benjen doesn't have such a burden. She also suspects it has something to do with how she and Jon resemble the Stark family. Uncle Benjen misses them dearly.

Jon, Uncle Benjen, and Father never fail to encourage her in her antics, even if they are unladylike. They love her for her, and wouldn't change who she is for the world. She knows that, deep down, Mother loves her for her, too. Maybe Sansa does too, if you squint a little. It's just at times like these where she wants to feel like that don't, because that makes it easier to understand why they treat her the way they do. Like she is a stupid little girl with dreams that will never be.

Arya is snapped out of her thoughts when the door pushes open and in walks Mother. The young she-wolf turns her head so that it's facing the wall – she refuses to look at her mother. She has been sitting in here for an hour and Mother just decided to check on her? That's ridiculous. Mother sat on the bed, looking at her daughter for a moment. Then she tried to face Arya towards her. It didn't work. She pulled harder and harder but Arya was glued to that spot.

"Arya," Mother pleaded, "will you please look at me?"

She let out a puff and turned, slowly, until she was staring at her Mother in the eyes. If looks could kill, this one would.

"Thank you. Now, do you understand what you did was wrong?" Mother asked kindly, her blue eyes shining in the moonlit room.

Arya thought for a moment. _No, because I didn't do anything wrong! They started it!_ "Yes, it was wrong of me to kick Jeyne and pull Sansa's hair and bite Beth."

"YOU BIT BETH?!" Mother practically screamed. She looked the same way Sansa did when Arya found that snake.

"N-no… it was more of my teeth grazing her skin." Arya spat out quickly. Mother didn't even know about that and she had to sit in her room for an hour? That's overkill.

"Arya Stark!" Mother scolded her. "You are seven years of age! You are no longer a babe like Bran and Rickon anymore! You're nearly a lady! You _cannot_ bite people!"

Arya sighed, looking down at her lap. She knew she shouldn't have done those things. _Especially_ bitten Beth Cassel. After all, her father was the Master of Arms. He could have numerous opportunities to… if he ever wanted to, he could… "Yes, Ma'am."

"Are you going to apologize to the girls?" Asked Mother. Arya nodded her head a yes. "Good. They will too."

Arya furrowed her brow. They will too? Does Mother why she did those things to them? Of what Sansa said to her? She was about to open her mouth when Mother cut her off.

"I remember something my Septa used to tell me. She said, 'Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.' Remember that next time, wild one. They are just words. They cannot make you bleed." She left then, with some remark about seeing her in the morning.

 _That's not true,_ Arya thought, mulling over her mother's words. _Words hurt the most. I wouldn't mind sticks and stones over Sansa's words._ Then, she had the most genius idea. Perhaps a naughty one, but she still craves revenge. Maybe Sansa needs to know what hurts. And Mother says that sticks and stones do that. Sansa never argues with Mother.

 _Don't worry, dear sister. At least the words won't hurt you._


	2. Chapter 2: A Horrid Creature

**A/N: Originally, this was going to be a one-shot story, but I decided to add another chapter about some of Arya's antics due to a request by a guest review. I like this idea of a bunch of loosely related chapters about Arya and the trouble she gets into. I'll see if people like this and then decide where to go with it.**

 **Enjoy!**

Arya Stark woke up to the musical sound of silver swords clashing and birds singing. It was a beautiful summer day, as it had been for so many days in a row, despite last night. It had poured so hard last night that even Father thought it would never let up. Of course, it did eventually die off, because no storm lasts forever. When Arya peered out her window, she saw that last night's storm had left many muddy puddles in its wake. She couldn't hold back the urge to go outside instead of staying in and doing needlework with the monotonous Septa Mordane. Arya had always thought that perhaps her name should be Mundane instead of Mordane. It would fit her quite well, and it even sounds better than her real name.

Honestly, she didn't even know why she had to have a Septa. Her parents had set the lessons up just this past year, upon her seventh name day. She clearly did not want to go, and both Father and Mother knew that. Yet she was still put through such incredibly boring classes with Sansa and her friends. None of Arya's friends went to the Septa's classes (which is a part of what made them so lonely.) In fact, Arya was very certain that none of her friends even knew how to hold a needle, much less how to sew. Oh, how she longed to be out there, with her friends, clanking her sword against Mycah's and learning how to shoot properly. She had done it once, you know. Shot an arrow from a bow. Multiple times, actually. Father even applauded her when she managed to make it hit the bullseye. _Too bad Mother won't allow me to be a boy instead of a girl, she thought sullenly, boys can shoot arrows as often as they want to. And they aren't forced to wear dresses that get in their way_. This thought brought her back to reality, seeing as she still wasn't dressed for the day.

Tiptoeing across the cold, stoney floor to her clothing chest, Arya pulled out the first thing on top. Arya never was picky when it came to such frivolous matters. She just wanted to be quick about it. The simple orange dress with the sleeves that didn't quite reach her elbow slid on over her head and she quickly laced it up. The she-wolf wasn't quite old enough to wear corsets yet, unlike Sansa, and she hoped she never would have to. Maybe she could just live her life without one forever. That would be so wonderful. _But highly unlikely,_ Arya thought as a sigh escaped her lips.

As soon as she finished buckling her boots onto her feet, she took off, sprinting down the long hallways, down the staircases, and out the doors of the castle. Winterfell was quite large in size, even larger than the Red Keep in Kings Landing, though that was the capital of Westeros. Arya liked how big her home was. It made a great place for exploring. But one never knew just what they would bump into. In Arya's case, she stepped out into the commonplace and ran promptly into Sansa.

"What in the world are you doing?!" Sansa nearly yelled, causing Arya to stumble back ever so slightly.

She gave her older sister a sheepish smile, hiding her hands behind her back. "On my way to Septa Munda- Mordane's lessons?" She meant for it to be more convincing, but the sentence came out more of a question than a statement. The slip up on the name went, thankfully, unnoticed.

"Really?" Sansa raised an eyebrow at her sister. She never could understand why Arya didn't behave properly. It was always a mystery to her. "And you're going willingly?" This was a pleasant surprise indeed. Almost too good to be true... Sansa couldn't believe it.

"Yes, willingly. I'm not _completely_ terrible, you know." That wasn't exactly a lie. She could be very kind when she felt like it, or when the person was deserving of it.

Father often told her how kind her heart was, and that maybe, if she learned to tame it just a bit, she would be the kindest and nicest girl he's ever met. Arya wanted to tame her heart, she truly did. Not all the way, but just a little. She knew she was out of line sometimes and that being mean to _certain sisters_ wasn't always the right thing to do. She wanted to please Father so badly, yet in spite of that, she didn't want to lose her spark.

That's what Jon called it. He said she had the special spark inside her that the Stark's are famous for - the same spark that Brandon the Builder had. Jon said that spark carried on through many generations and he told her that she and Robb clearly have it. She took this as a great compliment, and continued to say that Jon must have The Spark as well. He had argued her, saying for the umpteenth time that he is no Stark. That had made her angry. She hated it when Jon talked that way about himself. So what if he wasn't trueborn? He's still a Stark same as her! He's still Ned Stark's son, whether or not he's got his name.

Arya knows that Jon is better than her. He has The Spark but he has better control of it. Something in him manages to keep the control over the First Man's blood in his veins. Arya's not sure what just yet, but it's got to be strong, she figures. It can't be something weak like the Tully's from Riverrun. Mother can be strong, very strong indeed, and so can her siblings. However, it just doesn't compare to that of Father's or Jon's. Robb can easily lose his temper and Bran just isn't old enough to show any patience yet. The bastard (she hates that word) brother of hers has incredible perseverance, whether he takes pride in it or not. Arya knows that he gets jabs at his status every day, and it must hurt. She isn't sure how the crude jabs don't penetrate his skin. When Sansa jabs at Arya she feels such betrayal and pain. Jon never does. Jon's strong. It's like no one can hurt him, like it would take something very big to even make a dent.*

Arya wishes she could be like Jon.

"Mm. Well, if you're going to the Septa's lessons, you might as well walk with me. I was just heading there myself."

Arya's mind jumped back into the present as Sansa spoke. She noticed that her sister looked a mix of skepticism and hopefulness. Now she really did have to go to her lessons, because Sansa is walking with her. Honestly, she had just planned on skipping them today.

"Alright." Arya nodded, beginning to walk off towards the door she had just came out of. "Let's go then."

Sansa was still behind her, racking her brain to find an answer as to why Arya was walking in the wrong direction. "Arya? The Septa's lessons are this way."

"Oh. Of course." Arya turned herself around and walked side by side with her sister. True be told, Arya's mind was still on escaping her lessons. It was a few minutes before they reached what the young girl always thought would one day be her death place, and the walk was mostly silent. Sansa did no talking whatsoever, either dumbfounded by her sister's easy compliance or simply in a hurry to get there, and Arya only said a few hellos to some commoners she seemed to know.

When they finally reached Septa Mordane's teaching place (which felt like an eternity to both girls, for their own reasons), Sansa noticed that they were the last to arrive. They weren't late in any way, shape, or form, but they weren't early either. They were on time. Mother always told Sansa it's better to be early than on time for anything. Some Ladies, silly as it may be, take being on time as an insult. Now Arya had made her fall behind and she wasn't early. Arya always got in her way.

"Have a seat, darlings. It's time to begin our lessons." The Septa said, gesturing to two seats in the room. Sansa gratefully took the one in between Jeyne and Beth, quietly thanking the girls for saving her a seat. Arya plopped herself down in the only empty seat, sitting across from Septa Mordane, next to Beth Cassel and some older girl she didn't remember the name of.

The circle was comprised of five girls and the Septa herself. Of course, Sansa and Arya had been the students that mattered most, them being the daughters of Lord Stark and all. Then Jeyne Poole, the Stewards daughter, and her older sister Brielle Poole (that's the one that Arya couldn't remember the name of). Last was Beth Cassel, the daughter of Winterfell's Master of Arms. Arya felt they were all quite annoying and stuffy women, and she would do anything to get away from them. Okay, to be fair, Brielle and Beth weren't _as_ bad as Sansa and Jeyne. Beth had her moments when she would follow the other two girls around like a little puppy dog, and repeat the things they say, but she never truly meant any harm. Brielle was the oldest girl that attended the lessons, and the kindest too. She would frown at her younger sister's doings and never said anything mean to Arya. However, she wasn't like Arya. She still wished to be a Lady.

 _Brielle's the only one in this class that would make a good Lady,_ Arya thought to herself as the Septa began talking. Something about finding partners and standing up. Arya didn't really know - she wasn't listening. Her eyes were lost on a scene going on outside the window. Jory Cassel (Rodrick Cassel's nephew) and Theon Greyjoy had gotten into a scrap, and it looked like Jory was winning. Robb and Jon seemed to be laughing at them and suddenly Arya felt left out of the fun.

Beth tapped on her shoulder, bringing her mind back to the room. "You're to be my partner," said Beth.

Arya quickly stood next to the older girl, a confused look growing on her face. "Partner for _what_?"

Beth sighed and whispered to Arya. "We're practicing dancing."

This did not appeal to the She-Wolf in the least. "Ugh. Must we?"

"You can be the man." Beth offered, her eyes watching the Septa but her soft words directed at Arya.

"Okay."

And so they danced. Sansa was partners with Jeyne (of course), and Septa Mordane was using Brielle as her example. Now, Brielle being a woman of ten and four, already knew how to dance, so that made it quite easy to show the younger girls the art. Arya thought it was quite useless and would never help her defend herself. Dancing is so very dull. It's not at all fun and exciting.

Nevertheless, she still had to dance with Beth. Poor Beth was doing her best, but with Arya as a partner... Let's just say she didn't look very skilled. Arya was doing her best too, but Beth's best and her own best are two very different things. The old gods never meant for her to be a dancer. Not _this_ type, anyway.

Sansa and Jeyne were wonderful at it. Nearly as good as Septa Mordane and Brielle. Every time Arya tripped over her own two feet or Beth stumbled because of her the older girls would snicker and giggle to themselves. Arya didn't care. Why should she ever care about what they think? They don't know anything that truly matters anyhow. All they know is how to curtsy and dance, not fight and run and all those things that boys learn. _At least I'm good at the useful things._

"Arya, straighten your posture. No slouching." The Septa ordered.

Reluctantly, Arya obeyed. Her shoulders were now back and she was standing taller, though not by much. The rest of the class went about the same, Arya making mistakes and Septa Mordane correcting them harshly. After dancing they practiced their sewing for the thousandth time, and then the painstaking session was over and they were free to go. Arya thought it was a miracle that she was even able to last that long in the same room with that insufferable woman and her equally insufferable students.

When the girls walked out, they all talked amongst themselves about stupid things, like dresses and boys. Jeyne was just saying something about Beric Dondarrian (why does she always talk about the man so fondly? Is it because of his legendary fighting skills?) when Arya saw it. It was hard to see in the mud and dirt, and if she hadn't been so bored by the conversation she probably wouldn't have found it at all. She had the most wonderful idea.

"Look!" She exclaimed, picking it up with one hand. "Look, Sansa, look!" Arya turned to face the girls, sticking the brownish-pink thing right in front of her sister's face.

Oh, how she _screamed_. Arya was sure anyone all the way to Dorne and back could hear it. Sansa stumbled, falling in a small pit of muddy earth. The other girls all screamed as well, but none as loud as Sansa. After all, it was so close she could've licked it had she been brave enough. Arya laughed as Brielle and Jeyne helped Sansa up, all four girls taking a long step backwards.

"What? Don't you wish to hold it? It's really very tame." Arya said, petting the smooth back of the animal.

"It's a gigantic worm!" Sansa squealed, looking so scared you'd think she had just had a knife held to her throat. "It's horrid! Get it away from me, you beast!"

Arya didn't comply. She simply held it out closer. "It's not a worm! It's a snake."

Somehow, that only made it worse.

"AHH!" Screamed all the girls in unison. They all ran off, tripping over each other to be the first inside.

Arya smirked to herself, then to her new pet. Would Mother and Father allow her to keep him? She'd always wanted a snake as a pet. They're aggressive, yet calm at times. And it scared Sansa to bits, so that automatically gives it brownie points.

Arya couldn't argue with her sister on the account of it being a giant worm. It did have a rather striking resemblance to a worm. It was all one color - the same color most worms happen to be - and it didn't have any patterns or designs on it like the other snakes she sees around the castle sometimes.

 _If I do get to keep you,_ she thought, looking at the animal in question, _I think I'll name you Wormy._

 **A/N: *Jon is clearly not like this, I know. But Arya loves and admires him so much I thought I should write that without saying otherwise. It's from her perspective and that's just how I think she views Jon. And I couldn't resist the subtle nods to his dragon blood ;)**

 **Reviews are always welcome!**


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